


The Legend Of Stabby

by cat_77



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: All the legends are true, Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: All the legends are true, right?  Even the drunken, half-assed ones?





	The Legend Of Stabby

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some fluff to make up for all the angst of the last one.
> 
> * * *

The night started off easily enough: a few drinks, some good food, and some excellent friends. It wasn’t until Magnus had started crafting yet another round of cocktails for those who consumed them and Maia had broken out the plasma for Simon that things got weird.

It should have been a sign that Simon had perhaps had one too many when he held up the tiny little shot glass and asked, “Okay, but if Shadowhunter blood is like crack to us, and plasma is stronger than blood, what would Shadowhunter plasma do to me?”

It also should have been a sign that Magnus himself was perhaps a little further gone than first expected when he paused to muse upon that thought versus stopping Maia from refilling the glass. “I honestly don’t know,” he eventually admitted.

“Shadowhunters eschewed medical tech for the most part for a while, and the whole siphoning off just the plasma hasn’t been around that long in the scheme of things, so I doubt anyone has tried,” Maia reasoned. Magnus frowned as she was far too with it for his liking. Probably tied to being a bartender for so long; she could dish out the drinks to others and slowly sip at her own without ever losing control. Also probably a good thing as far as being a werewolf was concerned, really.

“Should we try and see?” Simon asked. His head lolled back against the seat cushion, long ago having sunk to the floor as sitting fully upright was beyond him.

“No!” a chorus of voices responded.

Simon shrugged it off easily enough. He was full of ideas and random thoughts, and moved on to the next one that happened across his mind while Jace and Alec whispered about what a bad idea it was. Well, stage whispered, which wasn’t fully whispering at all. For his part, Magnus had seen the darker side of vampires drinking Nephilim blood firsthand, and could only imagine what the more filtered version would do, let alone if the Nephilim chosen happened to have pure angel blood like two of his current guests did.

The evening continued, as did the imbibing, and it was edging more towards morning than night when Simon shot up as though he had partaken of a great revelation. Magnus assumed it meant that either the vampire was about to vomit, or his favorite line from Star Wars had crossed his mind again. He did not expect a rather enthusiastic, “Wait, all of the legends are true, right?”

“For the most part, yeah,” Jace agreed readily enough.

Some hand waving and sputtering later, and both Simon and his bestie Clary exclaimed, “Stabby the Unicorn!”

Things got a little more weird after that.

After establishing that, yes, unicorns did exist, or at least they had at one point, the topic turned to finding one in particular. Apparently mundanes, or at least the two people raised as mundanes before him, had created a myth of a pissed off unicorn that liked to stab people. Clary even sketched a likeness, which was quite amazing in her inebriated state. He wasn’t certain if it was meant to be quite so adorable for a supposed killing machine.

“I’d love to meet one someday,” Simon said wistfully, watching as she added red to the eyes. “Not necessarily Stabby, but like a real live unicorn. That’d be cool. I promise I wouldn’t drink its blood and go full-on Voldemort or anything.”

“Well, you’d probably be the only one to manage to get close,” Jace scoffed. At the disparaging look he received, he unnecessarily clarified, “Supposedly they prefer virgins.”

It was Clary who barked out a laugh first. “Yeah, um, no. That ship sailed a long time ago,” she managed between the giggles.

“Years,” Izzy agreed, while Maia and Simon nodded along, much to Jace’s dismay.

Alec took the moment to raise his head from where it had been resting against Magnus’ shoulder to groggily ask, “Why would it want to stab virgins?”

As much as Magnus wanted to just tell the very drunk Nephilim to close his eyes and go to sleep, Clary and Simon managed to beat him to the punch. “Stabby doesn’t stab virgins,” Simon quickly explained. He then paused before he amended that to, “Stabby might stab virgins if they’re assholes.”

“Stabby doesn’t like assholes,” Clary agreed with an emphatic nod that nearly sent her toppling. This was quite the feat as she was just as slumped as Simon at that point. “Stabby, or Stabastian if you want to be formal, stabs people who are rude or evil or dangerous or things like that.”

“It’s kinda sad, really,” Simon mused. He started to drift but resumed his line of thought with Maia’s amused prompting. “Just that Jace might get to meet Stabby before I do.” Clary high-fived him for that, or at least tried to. Her hand whizzed past his ear, which was fine as his landed against her shoulder.

It was around then that Magnus cut off the booze. Mainly because dear Isabelle and Jace had now joined in on elaborate plans to try to locate Stabby. Isabelle wanted to meet the majestic and possibly deadly animal and Jace wanted to train it to attack Daylighters. Jace had started to make an ill advised comment regarding the distinct lack of virgins should Izzy be around, but was thankfully silenced by his parabatai before there was a bloodbath.

It looked like everyone was starting to drift off for real, uncomfortable positions be damned, so Magnus wrestled his favorite Shadowhunter off to their shared bedroom. He figured a bed was better than an overcrowded couch and he could perhaps remedy Alexander’s hangover in the privacy of their room, thus furthering the myth that the good Mr. Lightwood was no longer a one drink date. He was usually up to at least two before he paid the price the next day.

Just before he closed the door, he heard the dulcet tones of Mr. Lewis one last time. “Okay, but if a Centaur is a human horse hybrid, and Pegasus also exist, are there Centagus? Maybe Centagus-es?” came the mumbled musings. 

He decided it was in his best interest to not intervene when there was a rousing chorus of, “Pegasaurs!”

He slid the door shut with a shake of his head. As an afterthought, he made certain all entrances and exits were locked and warded, just in case any drunken plans reached fruition. No one was in any shape to go on an epic hunt, least of all after Stabby or his mystical cousins.


End file.
